.:-:†§##@#                                          #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@                                          @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§##                                          ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@                                          @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@#                                          #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@##               winds esker                ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@# ---------------------------------------- #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@                                          @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§## there was this place that  for two years ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@ i  couldn't  go to. regardless how  much @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@# discussed with  others, or  pointed  out #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@## on maps,  i could not  think  of it when ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@# alone. i  would  often  travel  past the #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@ fork, where  a right  turn would  surely @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§## take me there,  but even then, something ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@               kept me away.              @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@#                                          #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@## when  i  finally got there,  after  some ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@#     heavy subconscious battle i must     #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@ assume,  the   place  was   surreal.  an @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§## esker, like a  needle-thin  rift  out in ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@ the  lake,  but  ten   meters  high  and @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@# adorned in  birch, willow, bracken,  and #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@##               blueberries.               ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@#                                          #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@ walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§## notice  the view  to either side.  there ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@ should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@# didn't  recognize  them. first off, they #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@## were much too  close, as the lake should ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@# stretch for  a  hundred  meters more  on #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@ both  sides. but  now  i  felt  i  could @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§## almost  reach  out  and touch  them. and ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@ then, when i realized  which shores they @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@#           were, i had to stop.           #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@##                                          ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@# they were of  the  right lake.  but this #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@      lake is large, fractured, and       @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§## bipartite. like  a pair of lungs  carved ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@ into  the granite, and with no less than @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@#   five communities anchored at various   #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@##      points. and so, studying these      ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@#    impossibly close shores, i slowly     #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@ understood them  as belonging many miles @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§##                  away.                   ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@                                          @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@# i  examined  the  ridge,   the  treeline #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@## above. was this  what you saw  opposite, ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@# from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@                 remember.                @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§##                                          ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@ carrying  forward, on  the very  tip  of @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@# the esker,  i found  the ruins  of  some #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@##    old building. there were overgrown    ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@#  marble staircases, stone floors beneath #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@ the  moss, and  strange  slabs  inserted @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§## into the slope  like  dams  against  the ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@              ground itself.              @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@#                                          #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@## sitting there, i  could see  across  the ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@# narrowed lake my entire path  to where i #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@ sat:  from  the  stairwell of  my house, @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§## through the old  woods behind  the  tile ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@      factory, the bridge over route      @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@# twenty three  and  then back  under  it, #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@## through  the  fancy  villas,   over  the ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@# fields, and then  that right turn at the #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@                   fork.                  @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§##                                          ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@ and then  the stairs  up on  the  ridge. @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@# thinking  back,  this was  probably  it. #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@## hidden  in  a  grove,  there were stairs ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@# much like the ones i  currently sat  on, #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@ old and  worn  down,  that  lead  you up @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§## onto  the esker. the point of entry. had ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@ i insted opted  to walk the path  at its @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@# foot,  i'm sure my  experience  would've #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@##          been different indeed.          ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@#                                          #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@ ---------------------------------------- @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§##                                          ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@ on  the  lake,  there  were   people  in @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@# boats. i  wondered, could  they even see #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@## me? if  i  shouted, would they  turn  to ##@##§†:-:
.:-:†§##@#          stare right through me?         #@##§†:-:.
..:-:†§##@                                          @##§†:-:..
...:-:†§##                                          ##§†:-:...
..:-:†§##@                                          @##§†:-:..
.:-:†§##@#                                          #@##§†:-:.
:-:†§##@##                                          ##@##§†:-: